Doctor Who: The Shining Man

by Cavan Scott

  Charlotte shrugged. ‘I thought everyone was talking about it. At first people thought they were just a hoax, some kind of internet prank.’

  ‘But you didn’t …’ the Doctor said.

  ‘I knew there had to be something in it. The trouble is that there are idiots out there who’ve been dressing up as them, scaring kids and the like. It’s been difficult to know which sightings are genuine …’

  ‘And which are people mucking about in costumes,’ Bill said.

  ‘Like the ghost impersonators of the nineteenth century,’ the Doctor mused, peering at the screen.

  ‘The what?’

  He scratched his nose, slipping easily into storytelling mode. ‘People think of the Victorians as a rational bunch, with heads full of technology and Empire, but belief in ghosts was so entrenched by the mid-nineteenth century that people expected to encounter spooks and spectres wherever they went. It wasn’t long before tricksters and conmen took to covering themselves with sheets and jumping out at strangers, specifically women. It looks as though history is repeating itself.’

  Charlotte nodded. ‘The supermarkets haven’t helped. Betterworths has even been selling Shining Men costumes for Halloween, complete with torches for eyes. And then there’s Photoshop and Render Plus. Anyone with a half-decent computer can pull off special effects these days. They could all be fake, every single Shining Man video.’ She smiled, tapping the pocket where she had stashed her phone. ‘Until tonight. This is the proof we’ve been waiting for.’

  ‘What about the other stuff?’ Bill asked.

  Charlotte frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Back in the woods, when all those eyes appeared, I was scared.’

  ‘It’s understandable,’ the Doctor said. ‘You’re only human.’

  ‘But I’ve seen scary stuff before. You know that. This was different.’

  ‘Like you couldn’t move,’ the Doctor said, flatly. ‘Like your body wasn’t your own any more.’

  ‘Exactly. I could barely breathe. Like I was trapped.’

  ‘That’s in the reports too,’ Charlotte told then. ‘The ones I think are genuine anyway. An overwhelming sense of claustrophobia.’

  ‘So why here,’ the Doctor said, pushing back a flimsy curtain to look out of one of Velma’s windows. ‘Why Huckensall?’

  Charlotte shrugged. ‘I told you. This is where it all started.’

  ‘The first sighting.’

  She nodded. ‘Two months ago.’

  ‘Spreading across the globe in just eight weeks.’ The Doctor pointed at the laptop. ‘May I?’

  ‘Be my guest,’ Charlotte said, handing it over. ‘The world’s gone Shining Man mad.’

  ‘They even have their own hashtag,’ the Doctor said, studying the screen. ‘#fearthelight. You can tell something’s important when it has a hashtag.’

  ‘You know about hashtags?’ Bill asked, the thought amusing her more than it should.

  The Doctor glared over the top of the laptop. ‘#insulting. I’m sure you think I live in a box!’

  ‘You kinda do.’

  The laptop chimed.

  ‘You’ve got a message,’ the Doctor told Charlotte, peering closer. ‘Someone called MonStar5000.’ His fingers clattered over the keyboard as he typed a reply: ‘“Hello MonStar500. Congrats on the name. It’s nearly as ridiculous as mine …”’

  Charlotte snatched the computer from his lap. ‘Hey!’

  The Doctor sniffed. ‘Boring conversation anyway.’

  Charlotte’s eyes widened as she read the screen. ‘No it’s not. He’s asking if I’ve seen the live feed on ParaNewsNet.’

  ‘Well, have you?’

  ‘Not yet, but …’ She clicked a button.

  ‘Let me see,’ Bill said.

  Charlotte turned the laptop around to reveal a webcam feed.

  ‘That’s a shop,’ the Doctor said, sounding singularly unimpressed as Bill made out row upon row of computer hardware boxed on shelves. ‘And a closed shop at that. MonStar5000 needs to #get-a-life.’

  ‘That’s near here,’ Charlotte realised. ‘A little computer store in the arcade. I popped in yesterday for an SD card. They must have a webcam running on one of the machines.’

  ‘Why?’ the Doctor asked. ‘To bore people to death? Because it’s working.’

  ‘There,’ Bill said, pointing towards the shop window at the back of the grainy image. ‘Something moved, on the street outside.’

  The Doctor looked closer. ‘I don’t think so. It’s just—’

  He jumped back. A face had appeared in the shop window, just for a second. A face with glowing eyes.

  ‘How near is near?’ he asked, already making for the door.

  ‘Literally around the corner,’ Charlotte answered, reaching for her beanie hat.

  The Doctor yanked open the door and jumped out. ‘Then what are you waiting for? #move!’

  Chapter 10

  Gone Shopping

  For a man who claimed to be two thousand years old, the Doctor sure could run. He sprinted ahead, his thin legs pumping and booted feet slamming against the pavement.

  ‘Which way?’ he shouted, reaching the bottom of Brownie Hill.

  ‘Along the High Street,’ Charlotte replied. ‘Turn right.’

  He took off again. Bill followed without stopping, Charlotte keeping pace beside her. Bill considered for a moment that they must look pretty suspect, two women chasing an old bloke in a velvet suit at midnight, but no one intervened. The road was pretty empty anyway, save for the odd car speeding by, stereo pumping.

  ‘So who are you really?’ Charlotte asked as they ran.

  ‘I’m a student,’ Bill replied, pleased that she hadn’t even broken a sweat. Being with the Doctor was better than a gym membership.

  ‘Where now?’ the Doctor called back.

  ‘Left by the Goodfellow,’ Charlotte replied.

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The pub,’ she said, pointing ahead.

  ‘Got it!’ The Doctor ran across the road, Bill glancing both ways before following suit.

  ‘So what is he then? The Doctor?’ Charlotte asked, as he disappeared around the corner. ‘Your boyfriend?’

  That made Bill laugh. ‘Not my type, mate. Not by a long shot.’

  ‘Thought so.’

  ‘He’s my teacher. He’s showing me how the universe ticks, one planet at a time.’

  ‘Like astronomy, you mean?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  The Doctor reached the end of the road. This time, Charlotte didn’t wait for him to ask.

  ‘Straight over. Alleyway next to Greggs.’

  He didn’t reply, hurrying across the road.

  ‘You said he hunted monsters.’

  ‘I say a lot of things,’ Bill said as they dashed over to the bakery. The Doctor had vanished down a little alleyway between the shops.

  ‘But you’ve seen this kind of stuff before. Back in the woods, you were scared, but you weren’t surprised. Like you expected things to get weird.’

  They raced through the walkway, exiting into a little shopping precinct. It was dark until a buzz from the Doctor’s screwdriver turned on the street lights one by one. Shops stretched ahead, either side of a row of benches, just what Bill expected from a place like this. Charity shops and discount stores rubbed shoulder with newsagents and a greasy spoon café.

  The Doctor was over by a greengrocer, checking a plan of the shopping centre. Bill stopped, catching her breath, but Charlotte wasn’t through with the interrogation.

  ‘Are you UNIT?’

  Bill looked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘You heard. It’s either UNIT or Torchwood.’ The girl’s face visibly paled. ‘You’re not the Forge, are you?’

  Bill raised a hand before she started hyperventilating. ‘I honestly don’t know what any of that means.’

  She jogged over to the Doctor who was busy scraping chewing gum from the plastic map using the end of the sonic screwin
g.

  ‘Seriously,’ he muttered. ‘Why do people insist on sticking gum on things. Disgusting habit. It’s covering up the shop numbers.’

  ‘Can’t you … you know …’ She mimicked the sonic and buzzed like a bee.

  The Doctor looked appalled. ‘It doesn’t sound like that.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Besides the sonic doesn’t work on chewing gum. That and wood.’

  Bill’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What kind of screwdriver doesn’t work on wood?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Charlotte, tapping the Doctor on the arm and saving him the embarrassment of a reply. ‘I know where it is.’

  ‘At least someone’s useful,’ the Doctor said, hurrying after the vlogger.

  Bill resisted the urge to poke her tongue out at the back of his head.

  Charlotte stopped outside a pokey little shop.

  ‘Hardly the Apple Store, is it?’ Bill said, taking in the gaudy hand-painted sign. ‘PC Planet: for all your computer needs.’

  Charlotte was already filming an establishing shot on her phone. ‘It was here, not half an hour ago, that the Shining Man was spotted,’ she narrated portentously, turning in a circle.

  The Doctor shoved the phone aside before she could get him in shot.

  ‘Hey!’ she snapped. ‘I’m working here.’

  ‘You’re not the only one. Leave me out of it, OK?’

  ‘So, it was standing here,’ Bill said, positioning herself where they’d seen the Shining Man on screen. Sure enough, she could see a webcam through the window, a red LED flashing above the lens.

  ‘Excuse me,’ the Doctor said, guiding her out of the way.

  ‘Don’t mind me!’

  ‘I don’t,’ he told her, bending down to scan the paving slabs beneath his feet. ‘Which is why you’re still here.’

  She pulled a face. ‘Please tell me you’re not going to lick the pavement.’

  ‘No need,’ he said, standing again. He looked up and down the precinct, Bill following his gaze. To the right were the shops they’d already seen – Poundsaver, the Cats’ Protection League and Jean’s Café. To the left were Betterworths, Gamez Exchange, and the entrance to a car park.

  ‘How do we feel about splitting up?’ the Doctor asked.

  Bill shook her head. ‘You’ve never watched a horror movie in your life, have you?’

  He looked at her, puzzled.

  She raised her hands in front of her, putting on a dramatic voice. ‘Our heroes split up, go off alone and are picked off one by one.’

  ‘That never happens,’ he insisted. ‘Well, hardly ever. Stop being a scaredy-cat.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Bill insisted, rubbing her arm as she looked around. ‘Shopping centres are just creepy at night, that’s all.’

  ‘Clowns are creepy. Shops are just shops.’

  Now it was Bill’s turn to stare. ‘You’re scared of clowns?’

  ‘No!’ the Doctor said, a little too quickly. ‘But can we discuss this later. When we’re not standing in the creepy shopping centre.’ He pointed back the way they’d come. ‘Charlotte, you check back there and I’ll have a poke around the car park. Bill can stay here.’

  He said it in a way that said she was too scared to look for herself.

  ‘I’ll do the car park,’ she insisted. ‘You never know, Krusty may be hiding behind the shopping trolleys.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ he said mirthlessly and checked his watch. ‘So, back here in five minutes.’

  Charlotte saluted, stopping short of snapping her heels together. ‘Aye aye, captain.’

  ‘Be careful,’ the Doctor said, waving both of them off before turning his attention back to the pavement outside PC Planet.

  Bill chewed her lip as she walked away, the buzzing of the sonic screwdriver a comfort as she crept towards Betterworths.

  What was she even supposed to be looking for? This was the Doctor down to a tee; just expecting her to wing it. Probably because he was doing the same. Oh, he liked to pretend he was the man with a plan, but she’d rumbled him almost as soon as they started hanging out. Nine times out of ten, he made it up as he went along.

  But he was also right, more often than not. Today was no different. The supermarket ahead of her was just a shop; the aisles dark, the shelves stacked and ready for business. The place would be bustling with OAPs and screaming kids tomorrow. Nothing to be afraid of, unless you got a trolley in the back of your ankles.

  She glanced back. The Doctor was scanning the shop window and Charlotte was at the far end of the precinct, recording another video.

  Bill peered through the entrance of the car park. The bays were empty, except for a red Volvo parked in the corner and a grimy white van left by the trollies.

  It wasn’t even that dark. Strip lighting flickered overhead. The car park only had two floors. How long could it take to have a snoop around? Convincing herself that everything would be fine, she hurried over to the ramp that led to the upper level.

  Something flashed up above. She froze at the bottom of the rise, listening for any signs of movement. All was quiet, the Doctor’s screwdriver buzzing merrily out in the precinct.

  Getting jumpy, she told herself, that’s all. She started up the ramp. There it was again. A reflection against pipes in the ceiling, two points of light moving across the metal. They were too small for headlamps; too close together for a car.

  She stopped where she was, feeling for her mobile in the pocket of her jacket. She pulled it out, scrolling through to the Doctor’s number before she realised she had no signal.

  Great.

  She could go back for him. She should go back, but the way he’d gone on about her about being scared … No. She wasn’t about to provide him with more ammunition. If he were here, he’d explore, come what may. He would do this, and so could she.

  Gripping her phone like a talisman, Bill inched up the ramp, peering over the barrier as she neared the top.

  The upper level was just as deserted, a solitary motorbike standing beside a set of swing doors at the far end.

  Those must be the stairs, Bill thought as she crept across the empty spaces. Could it have been the bike, a reflection from its lights? She hadn’t heard an engine, but touched its black and yellow chassis just to make sure. It was cold, and only had one light anyway.

  The payment machine was the only other thing up here, sat in the corner. She glanced at her watch. That had to be five minutes. She’d take the stairs down to the ground floor, anything to get out of here as quickly as possible. She pulled open one of the doors only to recoil. Ugh! The stairs smelled like a urinal. Then there was the strobing fluorescent tubes, straight out of a late-night slasher movie.

  ‘No thanks,’ she said, crying out in shock as she turned, bright lights dazzling her. She was pushed back against the door, a gloved hand clamped across her mouth before she could scream.

  ‘Fear the light,’ the Shining Man hissed in her ear, its foul breath warm against her cheek.

  Chapter 11

  PC Schofield

  Bill reacted the only way she knew how and brought her knee up hard. She felt the crunch rather than heard it, followed by a sudden grunt. The grip on her arm loosened enough for her to push the Shining Man away.

  It stumbled and collapsed to the floor, like a wounded animal. Bill blinked, trying to clear her vision.

  ‘Bill!’ came a voice from behind. She moved, just in time to stop herself from being crushed by the door, the Doctor rushing from the stairwell. ‘Are you all right?’

  Fighting to stop herself from hyperventilating, Bill pointed at the body curled up in a protective ball at their feet. ‘Grabbed me … couldn’t see.’

  Charlotte crashed through the door. ‘Bill? What happened?’

  ‘Our Shining Man,’ the Doctor said, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he looked down at the writhing figure. It was wearing a long brown coat, its head covered by glossy black hair. Its eyes were still open, the bright beams of light illuminating not
hing but scuff marks and cigarette butts on the floor.

  True to form, Charlotte had her phone out, filming the back of its head.

  ‘Let’s see if we can get you a better shot,’ the Doctor said, reaching down.

  The rev of a powerful engine stopped him. Headlights blazed up the ramp, accompanied by a squeal of tyres. With the sudden whoop of a siren, a police car accelerated onto the upper level and raced towards them.

  The Doctor raised his hands, as if he’d been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. He was bathed in light as the car screeched to a halt in front of them, Charlotte still filming as they screwed their eyes up against the glare.

  The car doors flew open, a female police officer jumping from the driver’s seat. She was tall, just shy of six foot, with keen green eyes and blonde hair scraped up into a neat bun beneath her hat. Her partner was even taller, a heavy-set black man who looked like he meant business.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ the woman demanded.

  ‘My friend was attacked,’ the Doctor said, nodding towards the groaning heap of clothes on the floor.

  The woman sighed. ‘Not another one.’

  She nodded at her partner who rolled the Shining Man onto his back. Its face was covered with a black mesh, and Bill could now make out a nose and mouth beneath the fabric. It was a mask, the blazing eyes nothing more than torches set into a domed forehead.

  The officer grabbed hold of the cheap polyester wig and pulled, the mask slipping away to reveal a bearded face.

  ‘Up you get,’ the policeman said, hauling the man to his feet.

  ‘Let go,’ he whined, trying to extract himself from the muscular arm of the law. He pointed an accusatory finger at Bill. ‘Sh-she assaulted me!’

  ‘Only after you grabbed me!’ Bill spat back.

  The female officer turned to the Doctor. ‘And you witnessed this?’

  ‘Only the aftermath,’ the Doctor replied. ‘Police Constable …?’

  ‘Schofield,’ she said, before her eyes fell upon Charlotte. ‘And what do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Charlotte said, slipping her phone into her back pocket before anyone could take it from her. ‘Just, you know, filming evidence.’